


If I Can't Have Your Good Side I'll Take The Bad

by blackberrying



Category: Whiplash (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackberrying/pseuds/blackberrying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's got a crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Can't Have Your Good Side I'll Take The Bad

Andrew didn’t think much of it, walking out of the green room with the music folder in his hand. Tanner told him to watch their music and not to lose it so he did as he was told without question, like usual. The band had a few minutes before they were set to perform, so he decided to take a break like everyone else, stepping out to get some air and maybe a drink. He spotted a vending machine in the hallway and made his way to it. Dropping the folder carelessly on a nearby chair, Andrew turned to the vending machine, giving it his full attention as he mulled over his choices. After a few seconds, he decided on a root beer, giving up an insane amount of money for it, and listened to the satisfying clunk as the machine spat out the can of soda. Andrew reached for it, opened it, and took a sip, scanning his surroundings at the same time.

When he spotted Fletcher at the end of the hallway, Andrew nearly spat out his drink. He hadn’t expected to see him outside of the green room, and he really hadn’t expected to see him talking so cordially with another person. A man and a young girl stood across from Fletcher, and the way he faced them, the way he talked to them—hell, there was even a trace of a smile on his lips—it was all too surreal. Andrew had to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming. Not that he ever dreamed about his teacher. Well, maybe he did… once. 

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Andrew was hooked now, watching the very same man who had only recently slapped the shit out of him and chewed him out in front of the whole band behave like he was the most even-tempered person in the world. At one point Fletcher looked down at the girl and gave her a high five, talking to her like he could never hurt a fly. Andrew cracked a smile as he watched Fletcher and the other man conversing, but that smile quickly faded when he realized something. Andrew looked away and downed some of his drink, staring at the wall as if that might help him ignore the butterflies in his stomach. 

It wasn’t pre-performance nerves making him feel this way. It was more twisted than that: Andrew had a crush on his teacher.

_Oh shit…_

Why did it have to be Fletcher? Out of everyone he’d ever met, that ruthless son of a bitch was the only person he’d ever felt so strongly about. Fletcher was the first person who had ever taken an interest in him and his talent and all his life he’d thirsted for that kind of attention. Andrew wasn’t sure he fully understood, but in an odd way he figured it made sense that he would wind up liking the one person who pushed him to his limits like Fletcher did. He felt his face heat up and his heart beat faster the longer he thought about it all and he pressed the cool soda can against his face, taking one last look at Fletcher before shifting his gaze to the floor.

Andrew suddenly felt envious of that man at the end of the hall and wanted to know his secret. Maybe they were just childhood friends and that gave the guy an automatic pass to see Fletcher’s good side. But for him, a simple student with a bit of ambition, how could he earn the same thing? He might earn the chance after suffering through more sleepless nights and spilling even more blood, sweat, and tears than he already had, but there was no guarantee. Andrew wanted it, but at the same time he was terrified. No one in their right mind would want to be near his tyrant of a mentor, judging from the way his fellow band members acted. Despite that, he wanted it so bad, to have Fletcher smile at him and regard him without cruelty. If Fletcher ever found out what he wanted though, he knew he would tear him apart.

_“What are you, a fucking teenage girl who draws hearts in the margins of her fucking Hello Kitty notebook when she’s supposed to be studying!?”_

Finishing the rest of his drink, Andrew closed his eyes and let himself daydream. He started out simply enough, imagining himself excelling above the rest, observing his peers from some imaginary pedestal, and then he thought of Dr. Fletcher, as demanding as ever, but this time he got a bit creative, envisioning what it might be like to see his teacher smiling at him, finally proud of him. It was brief, just a crooked smile and a curt nod of approval before returning to his natural state, the ruthless teacher Andrew knew best. That fanciful glimpse, although only in his mind, was enough to keep him going. Dreams can become reality if you work hard enough, or so Andrew always believed…

“Hey, Neiman, what the fuck are you doing?”

Andrew’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his name and he looked towards the voice in alarm, exhaling as soon as he realized who it was. Tanner was standing beside him, looking annoyed and a bit frantic.

“H-hey,” Andrew managed to say in response. His greeting did nothing to ease the expression on Tanner’s face.

“Where’s the folder? Where is the music?” The other drummer prodded.

“Uh… it’s right th—” Andrew pointed to the chair behind them that he could’ve sworn he left the music on, but the chair sat empty just like the others lined up next to it. “What the hell? Where did it go?”

Tanner gaped as he looked from the chair to Andrew’s face and back again. “You lost it? Now we’re fucked! Well, you are. God dammit…” He took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair and Andrew looked on, having pushed away his thoughts from earlier. “Let’s just fucking find it before we give Fletcher another reason to tear us a new one.”

_“Shiiiit…”_ Andrew cursed under his breath and tossed his now empty soda can in a nearby receptacle as he ran as quietly as possible through the hallways of the building. The two of them searched for as long as they could but the folder never turned up, and they were out of time.

“Now we’re late. Fuck!” Tanner cursed, glancing down at his watch. Andrew hung his head and followed Tanner down the hall back to the room where the rest of the band and the ever irritable Dr. Fletcher waited, praying that their flagellation would be quick.

They entered the room and Fletcher immediately grilled them, wondering why they were late and why they weren’t ready to go on stage. Tanner quickly pointed at Andrew, blaming him for their tardiness and revealing that he misplaced their music before Andrew even had a chance to think of what to say.

“The music is _your_ responsibility,” Fletcher said, directing his anger on the core drummer. Andrew stood by and watched their exchange, too scared to even move, but oddly comforted knowing that Tanner was taking the heat instead of him. The other drummer blathered on about his memory issues and how he needed the sheet music to play and Fletcher interrupted, unfazed by his excuses.

“Can _any_ of you fucking morons play it or are we going to have to pick someone from the audience? Somebody sitting out there probably has a better grasp of this music than all of you combined!”

Without a second thought Andrew took the opportunity and spoke up.

“I can.”

Fletcher regarded him and for a split second Andrew thought he saw something other than rage and disdain reflected in his eyes. It was a soft expression, he hoped it was admiration, but he wasn’t quite sure. Andrew didn’t want to fall for it, because that weakness was just fodder for his teacher, but he already had. Fletcher only had to look at him the right way and he knew he would do anything to impress him. This “crush”, or whatever it was, was much worse than he thought.

“You know ‘Whiplash’ by heart,” Fletcher said matter-of-factly. Andrew nodded, finally looking his teacher in the eye. This was his moment, his chance to outshine the others and really impress the only person in this room who mattered to him. They only stared at each other for a second or two, but to Andrew it felt like forever, and he wanted more of it, driven by the loud, frantic beating of his heart.

“Alright we’re on, let’s _GO!_ ” Fletcher shouted to the room and the band hustled to get to their instruments and make any necessary last minute preparations. Before Andrew could walk away, a hand clamped down on his left shoulder and he looked up, finding himself standing uncomfortably close to Fletcher and staring straight into his eyes. This time he was back to his old self; whatever trace of softness Andrew saw earlier was absent from his icy stare.

“Neiman, _don’t_ fuck this up,” was all Fletcher said. Andrew nodded sharply and then looked at the floor. He tried again to walk away but Fletcher continued to hold him firmly by the shoulder. Hearing his heart beating wildly in his ears, Andrew looked up and back into Fletcher’s eyes once more.

“And another thing,” he added, this time in a hushed tone, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you watching me earlier. What’s that about, huh?”

It took everything in Andrew’s power to keep his jaw from dropping. His eyes widened, betraying his shock, and Fletcher smirked in response. With a wicked glint in his eyes, Fletcher ever so slowly moved his hand from its place on Andrew’s shoulder, tracing part of the drummer’s collarbone with the edge of his thumb as he let his hand slide down Andrew’s arm. Fletcher danced his fingers across the fabric of Andrew’s shirt sleeve, removing his hand as soon as he reached the drummer’s wrist. Without a word Fletcher turned and left Andrew standing there, dumbfounded, blushing furiously, and burning from his touch. He looked down at his arm and bit his lip, hating himself for enjoying that exchange. As everyone began to march onto the stage, Andrew hoped that he would be able to keep his focus on playing at least long enough to get him through this set. He could worry about Fletcher’s mind games and the feeling below his belt later.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I found that scene in the hallway interesting when I watched the film, so I decided I wanted to expand on it. Sorry it's not smut ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
